


Warmth from the Sun

by alessandralee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5134898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandralee/pseuds/alessandralee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kiss is easy, impulsive. But some things are harder to adjust to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth from the Sun

Will didn’t date a lot when he was younger. In high school he was kind of goofy looking, and girls didn’t give him a spare glance. And by the time military training and time got rid of that, he was too busy chasing adventures to be bothered with romance.

He thinks he might have a chance with Jemma.

For one thing, there was that kiss, mixed with salty tears and a whole lot of pain behind it. And then all the other kisses that followed before Jemma dozed off in his lap on the floor of the cavern.

But that was a moment of high emotions and despair.

She could have woken up the next morning feeling that it was a mistake.

With her bed nearly and made and her absence tangible, Will thinks for a moment that she has.

He tries to ignore how much it gets to him. He’s spent fourteen years alone; she should be able to carve out a spot in his life so quickly.

He waits a while, hoping she’s just relieving herself or going for a walk or something.

She’ll be back soon. In the meantime, he can beat himself up for pushing his luck with someone so deeply upset. She was mourning; he should have known better.

By the time Will’s stomach is growling for lunch, Jemma still hasn’t returned.

He goes out to look for her. Because even if she’s angry or embarrassed or regretful, they’re still safer together. Even if she hates him, he doesn’t want anything to happen to her.

It takes a while for Will to find her.

She’s stripping off her pants at that monster-infested pond. He should have come here as soon as he noticed she’d taken her makeshift axe with her.

There’s a pile of the tubers they sometimes dig up lying next to her shoes. She’s been busy.

Restless energy. Frustrations.

A feeling he knows well, but definitely not a good sign.

Will watches silently as Jemma steps into the pool. As the only two people on a planet they have to hide from, he doesn’t exactly get to watch her without her knowing very often.

He can’t make out what she’s yelling, but it sounds more angry than pained or afraid.

That doesn’t surprise him.

Still, the second her head disappears under the water, in a terrifying instant, he’s kicking his shoes off and running for the water.

He scans the surface for any sign of her location, but it’s eerily still.

Will’s ankle deep in the water, having decided he’ll worry about grabbing her once he’s under, when Jemma resurfaces.

She crawls quickly up onto the dirt, a long white tentacle clutched in one hand. He rushes around the pond to her.

She’s laughing.

And she’s shivering, but her laugh is so belly deep and triumphant that it’s hard to believe she’s anything other than okay.

But Will knows it’s best not to dawdle out in the open like this, so he hurries to grab her discarded clothes.

He’s not even sure she notices his presence until he returns with her things.

“I needed to think,” is the first thing she says to him. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“And?” he prompts, more interested in the outcome of her thoughts, rather than any apology she thinks she owes him.

She doesn’t.

She’s run out of options, out of bright ideas to get them back to Earth. That requires adjustment. He understands.

“And I think that since I caught dinner, it’ll be your job to cook it,” she tells him.

She’s too busy tugging her jeans up her wet legs to notice his frown.

By the time she looks back up, he’s schooled his features and his thoughts.

However she feels about what happened last night, the important thing is that she’s coming back with him. The rest he can live with.

Although the way she laces her free arm through his makes him feel hopeful.

That’s just the effect she has on him.

There aren’t very many ways to cook alien tentacle monster and mystery tubers. Will attempts some sort of stew.

It’s the most adventurous meal in his arsenal of dishes that range from tasteless to downright disgusting.

He laughs when Jemma tells him it’s the best food she’s tasted on this planet. It’s a very low bar.

But that alone makes it his favorite meal on this godforsaken rock from hell. And he’s including the meals before NASA’s rations ran out.

They clean the dishes together, because what else is there to do now that they have no chance of making it home.

Jemma’s elbow rubs up against his repeatedly; he doesn’t mind.

If he focuses on the tub of water, he can almost make himself believe they’re on Earth.

They’re cleaning up after the barbecue dinner he just cooked for all their friends. They had to literally push Skye out of the door, she was too busy teasing them about their love nest.

He feels lucky that Jemma’s friends like him so much. He’s lost rack of his surviving Air Force buddies over the years. And the guys from NASA…

Are dead.

Horrifically.

Reality is a swift kick in the ass.

He has not met Jemma’s makeshift family. The only reason he knows Skye would tease them mercilessly is because Jemma described all of her friends in detail.

But now he’s as likely to meet Skye as he is to see Dan Bletchley again.

And at least he can visit Dan’s grace.

“You know, I think that bowl’s as clean as it’s going to get,” Jemma’s voice breaks him from his swirl of maudlin thoughts.

Will drops it into the basin. Jemma gently sets hers down.

She takes his hand in hers. The physical contacts is more comforting than he ever imagined touch could be.

“Rough day?” she asks him.

He simply nods. He doesn’t tell him he spent it worrying it about her. She probably knows.

“I had a thought that might cheer you up,” she tells him.

The dark, broken part of Will doesn’t want it to be another plan to get them back to Earth. He doesn’t think he can muster up any more optimism for that.

Yesterday he lost more than he even realized he had.

All he wants is to live out whatever time they have left with her by his side.

That’s all the hope he needs.

“And that is?” he asks.

“The sun has to rise eventually,” she tells him. “There are plants in the pool that undergo some very long form of photosynthesis.”

Will nods, not sure where she’s going with this.

“Using the data we collected to calculate the planet’s axis, I should be able to predict the next sunrise,” she continues.

The sun.

That would be just enough hope for him to handle. Between Jemma and a little sunlight, Will thinks he can last a few more decades.

He leans down to kiss her on the cheek.

She always knows how to get him through.

Jemma grabs a fistful of his shirt before he can stand all the way back up. She pulls him back down to her.

Her mouth is as warm, and as much of a lifeline as that underground heat source that powers most of the life on this planet. She’s crept into his heart.

She is light and warmth and hope.

And she smiles while she kisses, which might be the greatest thing ever.

When they finally pull away from each other, Will doesn’t mind the darkness that surrounds them so much anymore.

Later that night, he watches by firelight as Jemma pushes their cots together.

“I like having you near me,” she explains. “It’s comforting.”

He’s glad to know it’s not entirely one-sided.

Will nods.

“Tomorrow won’t be as bad,” she says, shedding her jeans again and crawling under the covers.

Will believes her.

As he pulls off his own clothes and climbs in next to her, Will feels warm. Content.

“Sweet dreams,” Jemma tells him.

“Sweet dreams,” he says back.


End file.
